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At first I was dazed, but when I came to understand I swore a great oath before Heaven that, for her false sake, I would hate and renounce her sex; that, whatever might be the temptation, never again would I look kindly upon women, or have to do with one of them in word, or thought, or deed. That oath, so far as lay in my power, I have kept to this day, and I hope to keep through all eternity.

It may be asked what became of my wife. I do not know. I lifted no hand against her who was flesh of my flesh, but she perished. The story was known. I was forced to tell it to clear myself. After I escaped from the prison I lay ill for many weeks, and when I recovered she was gone. Others had been betrayed besides myself, and doubtless some of them had wreaked fitting vengeance on her. What it was I never asked.

For many years—twenty perhaps—I became a wanderer. Now as before the Indians loved me, and, as Lord of the Heart and their hereditary cacique, in a sense I still was great, although but the shadow of power dwelt with me: the substance had departed, as it departs ever from those who fail. From time to time I strove to rebuild the plot; but, now that I was friendless and without fortune, few would follow me thus far.